


Happy Halloween, Douglas Richardson

by allamchick



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allamchick/pseuds/allamchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas doesn't enjoy holidays, but with Martin's help, he may change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Halloween, Douglas Richardson

**Author's Note:**

> A fan fic for the tumblr prompt: Let's Create Cabin Pressure/Halloween!

"Martin, I don't like Halloween."

"Yes, yes. You've already told me, Douglas. And I told you that you needn't accompany me to Arthur's Halloween party. But I'm going. I know it's only Arthur and it will probably be silly, but he's worked so hard and it would be rude not to go. You can stay home but that means -"

"I'm not handing out treats, either," Douglas growled.

"You're just going sit in the dark all night, then, are you?"

"Yes." Douglas folded his arms and humphed.

"You're being childish about this, you know." Martin shook his head and walked toward the kitchen.

"I told you, I don't like Halloween," Douglas repeated, following Martin and sitting at the kitchen table. He put tea bags in two waiting cups and added sugar to both.

Martin put the kettle on to boil. "You don't like Christmas, New Year, Easter, or birthdays, either."

"I'm not much for holidays, Martin. You knew that when we started dating. I told you, remember?"

"I remember."

"So? What's the problem, then?" Douglas waited for a scathing reply. 

Instead, Martin smiled. "No problem. In fact, I'll stay home as well. I bought a bag of chocolates and someone has to hand it out. Or else you'll eat it all."

The kettle boiled and Martin poured the water. Douglas noticed that his hands were shaking, and Martin's hands only shook when he was angry and trying to hide it.

"No, Martin. Go to Arthur's party and have fun. I'm not stopping you. I'm just not going with you."

"Aright, Douglas." Martin picked up his tea cup and walked into the living room.

Douglas stayed put. He knew when Martin needed to be alone, and this was definitely one of those times. He looked around the little kitchen and smiled. They'd moved in to the small house just a month before but it already felt like home. He remembered when they bought the dishwasher and Martin wanted their favorite mugs to be the first things it washed. Martin picked out the clock on the wall over the kitchen table: an airplane, of course. The week before, Martin drank too much wine with dinner and the two of them got up to some lovely shenanigans against the kitchen counter. 

He loved Martin and he knew Martin loved him in return. Martin asked for so little in the relationship, and he endured Douglas' moods and habits without so much as a grumble.

Douglas realized he was being selfish. He stood and strode into the living room.

Martin was sat on the sofa reading _Aviator Monthly_ , his tea cup empty and resting on an airplane-shaped coaster on the coffee table. Douglas sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry, Martin," he began sheepishly, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you don't enjoy holidays, Douglas. I shouldn't have pushed. I'll go to the party and I'll bring the candy with me. Arthur will be overjoyed to have a bag of chocolates to himself. You spend the evening however you want. I won't be home late. Maybe we can watch a cheesy horror film when I get back."

"You'd do that for me?"

Martin put down the magazine and took Douglas' hands in his own.

"Of course. It's just a party. No reason to fight about it."

"It seems to me that you make all the concessions in this relationship, Martin, and for that I am sorry. I've been selfish. I'd like to go with you."

Martin's eyes lit up and his smile nearly split his head in two.

"Really? I mean... _really?_ That would be wonderful, Douglas! Of course, you'd need a costume."

"A costume? Oh, for the love of - alright, tell you what. I'll wear my uniform, tape some gold braid to my hat and go as _Captain_ Douglas Richardson."

Douglas expected Martin to walk away or give him hell, but Martin smiled and snapped his fingers.

"Yes! That's perfect! I have an idea."

"Dare I ask what sir's idea could possibly be?"

"Give me a few days to firm it up. Thanks, Douglas. This means a lot to me. I suppose I owe you."

"I can think of one or two ways sir can pay me back," Douglas crooned, leading Martin by the hand to the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Arthur answered the door on Halloween, the sight before him confused him. Martin and Douglas stood before him in their uniforms.

"Hello, chaps. Um, why are you in your uniforms?"

They walked in and Arthur shut the door, watching them warily.

"Did we have a flight tonight, Skip?"

"No, Arthur. This is the only way I could convince Douglas to come with me."

Arthur blinked.

"Douglas, why did you answer for Skip?"

"I'm Douglas, Arthur," Martin replied.

Arthur noticed that Martin's uniform jacket had black tape over one of the gold stripes on his epaulets, and he had removed the gold braid from his hat. Douglas' uniform jacket had an extra gold stripe taped to its epaulets and Martin's gold braid pinned to his hat. When Arthur figured it out, he gave a shout of joy.

"Oh, that's brilliant! You came as each other! Wow!"

"Arthur, I do believe you've been imbibing your homemade punch a bit too heavily," Martin replied in a passable Douglas grumble.

"You know I'm Skip," Douglas squeaked in high register.

Martin tutted. "I don't sound like that!"

"You did this morning," Douglas murmured against Martin's ear.

Martin blushed, a crimson glow spreading from his cheeks to his neck and under his shirt. "Douglas!"

"Hey, everyone!" Arthur shouted happily, "Douglas and Skip are here! And guess what? They're dressed as each other! Isn't that brilliant?"

"Arthur, please..." Douglas grumbled.

"Well, now I am a bit confused. Was that you, Douglas, speaking as Douglas? Or was that you, Douglas, speaking as Skip?"

Martin intervened. "Arthur, where did you find a toblerone costume?"

"Isn't it brilliant, Skip? Or should I ask isn't it brilliant, Douglas? This may be a problem..."

"I told you dressing as each other would confuse Arthur," Douglas whispered into Martin's ear as Arthur went off in search of his latest glass of punch.

"That's not a difficult task on a normal day," Martin chuckled.

"Oh, dear Lord, check our Sir Alan Sugar over there." Douglas pointed toward the mantle where Herc leaned casually, sipping red wine. He strolled up to them and gave them the once-over.

"Too lazy to dress in real costumes, are you?" he asked with a smugness that set Douglas' teeth on edge.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Douglas shot back. "You're wearing a suit. Not exactly a well-thought costume in my book."

"I'm James Bond..."

"And I'm the baaaaad guy, Sheeperella," Carolyn interrupted from behind Herc. She wore a lamb's wool jacket and sheep slippers.

"Must you, my dear?" Herc whined. "You look silly, to say the least."

"It's my party and I'll bleat if I want to! Now, go and tend to the punch bowl, Mr. Bond!" 

When Herc was out of earshot, Carolyn laughed. "I'm his worst nightmare. Carolyn Knapp-Shappey dressed as a sheep!"

"You're baaaaad news, Sheeparella!" Martin joked.

Douglas laughed as well, despite himself. In the end, he enjoyed the evening. Carolyn had prepared a lovely hors d'oerves tray and bought sparkling apple juice just for him. He chatted with some of Herc's friends from Swiss Air and reminisced about "the good old days" of flying. He even doled candy out to the neighborhood trick-or-treaters, complimenting them on their costumes.

Martin was chuffed. "I see you're having a good time, Captain Crieff."

"Not really. I'm actually rather bored. I'm just doing this for you."

But the mischievous smirk on Douglas' face told another story.

That night, at home, as they lay in bed, Douglas turned to Martin and said, "I'd like to explain."

"Explain what?"

"Why I dislike holidays. Why I gave you such a hard time about the Halloween party. Why I acted like a total numpty."

Martin chuckled. "Oh, _that_. Only if you really want to, Douglas. But don't feel like you have to. You know I love you no matter what, right?"

"I know. And you put up with me without complaining and believe me, I know you have quite a lot to put up with. You deserve an explanation." Douglas took Martin's hand. "My father disliked holidays. He was a sailor, and he would rather be at sea than home with his family. He made holidays unpleasant. I learned to dread them. I'm sorry I took it out on you."

Martin squeezed Douglas' hand and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry, Douglas. That must have been awful."

"It was. But tonight I realized that being in a relationship means making new memories. I'm tired of clinging to the past. I'd like for us to make new memories. Happy memories."

Martin smiled. "I'd like that, too. We can start with Christmas. How do you feel about a real Christmas tree?"

Douglas had a feeling he was going to find out.


End file.
